A Twisted Trail
by Shnitzenhimer
Summary: When her home is stricken with illness, a young streetcat must find her way to the legendary forest clans. But can an expert of the street find her way in the wild?
1. Into the Alleys

**_Disclaimer: I own only what was not in the books. The names Sally Bones and Tam belong to S.F Said._**

**_Dedicated to:_**_ HPFan2937, aka-EveningSongEnchantment. Thanks for all your support. This winter would have been a lot harder without you. I loved talking to you and wish you luck where ever you may be and where ever you may go. So, good bye and good luck; I'll always consider you a friend._****

Chapter 1: Into the Alleys

"T'was th' twisted alleys en' streets o' the city that th' Bands a' Cats chose as their 'ome, knowin' they wouldn't be pursued there…" the voice of a storyteller drifted out of a small cardboard box, into the cold night air.

Flick, trudging past, rolled her eyes. What some cats would do for food! Hunting in the city was easy, if you knew the right place to look. That cat was probably just lazy.

Lots of two-legs meant lots of trash, and with trash came rats and mice that ran all year round. If a two-leg meat or fish nest (butcher shop of fish store) was busy enough, it was nothing to sneak in a grab some food. And that cat was old, but even he could manage to look pathetic enough for an old lady to feed him, the easiest trick in the book.

She sighed, ignoring a Monster that zoomed by on the busy streets as she trudged through the now brown slush that had once been snow. The Gang of the Streetrats' (a/n- name from my other fic, I'm going to use a lot of those terms in this story) territory was large, as were the other three main Gangs of the city, the Sewermice, Mudwalkers, and Dirtrollers.

She paused for a moment, amidst a crowd of two-legs as she waited for the pole on the other side of the street to light up. That was one of the Rules of the Street. Never cross anywhere but at a two-leg crossing place, and make sure two-legs were with you. The Monsters would stop for a person, but not a cat.

As the crowd moved across the street, she followed, and, as she dodged feet, she decided to head toward the park. Although the ducks geese, and golden fish wouldn't be back until the spring, the pigeons were still fed regularly and the squirrels never stopped running.

She crossed another street with the never-ending flow of two-legs and Monsters and was about to cross a third when a large black and white tom stepped in front of her. "Sally Bones (a/n-again, from my other story, though originally from Varjak Paw. I like that name) is wishen' to see ye."

Flick sighed. The leader of her Gang had a good-natured externally, but on the inside, she was as mean as a dog to anyone who didn't agree with her.

"Are ye t' busy t' visit yer leader, Flick?" the tom growled threateningly, seeing her hesitation.

Flick sighed and mewed sarcastically, "I'm com'in yer royalness. 'Old yer 'orses."

She followed him through several back alleys, across three streets, and into a final large alley. As she walked past, she saw two queens fighting viciously over a scrap of meat, and the stiff body of a dead cat, half buried in snow. Most of the others were asleep or out for they night. It was a familiar sight to a city cat.

At the back of the alley, amidst the trash bags, dumpsters, and boxes was a fence. Jumping nimbly from bag to bag, and trotting with perfect balance across the dumpster edge, she followed the tom as he leapt over the fence. On the other side was the courtyard of the four buildings around them. The Gang leaders inner circle of cats were scattered all around.  
"She's in there," the tom growled, flicking his tail at a cardboard box before hurrying over to join his friends.

Flick took a deep breath and gave her chest fur a quick lick. You had to be careful with Sally Bones. She was dangerous, and you had to deal with her depending on her mood.

At last she stepped up and entered. As he eyes adjusted to the light, she heard a silky smooth voice mew, "Ah, Flick, you've made it." She was the only cat Flick knew that could talk somewhat respectably.

"Yes'mum. I wouldn't miss it."

"Good," the other cat purred, "come, have a seat."

Flick sighed, this meant a long visit, and settled down beside the skinny white she-cat.

"You're a loner, correct? Like your mother?"

Flick nodded. A loner meant she was a cat that was part of a Gang but, unlike most gang cats, she didn't hang out in one of the many groups scattered all across the Gang land. She lived by herself and survived by herself.

"Thistle was a good friend to me," the she-cat mewed, and Flick suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. _Only a'cause she didn't want you's to 'urt 'er friends or nothin'_, she thought.

"If ye don't mind mum, why didja request me?" she asked bluntly. Sally Bones never spoke to someone without a reason.

The she-cat purred. "You know me well, for a loner," she mewed and again Flick suppressed the urge make a face.

"I was wondering if you would check out the small group of cats that live in the dump just inside our territory. Not a Gang, just one of the smaller groups. My sister leads them, and I haven't heard from her for awhile." Flick was surprised to hear a note of concern in her voice. Perhaps she wasn't so heartless after all.

"I'd be honored mum. I'll leave right away," she answered, dipping her head respectfully.

The white she-cat nodded. "Her name is Tam. (a/n-again, from Varjak Paw) She's a brown tabby."

Flick nodded, and her leader dismissed her with a flip of her tail, suddenly loosing interest. Flick left.

As she made her way over the fence and out of the alley, she thought about her journey. She knew her territory like the back of her paw. The dump was beside Flash's place, just inside the eastern border. She'd have to watch out for roamers, though. Roamers were cats who lived alone, or with two or three others, and avoided Gang business and fights. They were fiercely protective of what little land they had, and two patrolled three blocks right next to where she was going.

As she left the alley, she noticed that the two queens had stopped fighting, and the tabby had walked away with the meat. The tortoiseshell had gotten only a few scratches for her pain, and returned to her kit empty-pawed.

* * *

Flick glanced at the moon. There was still an hour of night left and there was only one block left to the twoleg dump. She decided to stop in the park and get some food. She looked around for a cross walk, but seeing no Monsters she decided to cross where she was.

As she splashed through puddles of slush, she heard a terrified screech. She paused, on paw raised out of the dirty water and listened. There it was again. The unmistakable sound of a cat in trouble. Splashing out of the puddle, she hurried along the sidewalk and into a back alley, following her ears.

As she turned a corner, she gasped. Two rough looking Roamers had a small white, fluffy, Pet-kitty cornered. The little animal trembled and hissed fearfully, her collar flickering in the moonlight. With a screech, these Roamers were on _her _gang's territory, Flick launched herself at the two intruders.

Bowling into one, she sent him stumbling back into a wall as she whipped around to strike out at the other. Her opponent, not guessing her speed, was unprepared for her heavy paws slamming into his head. He yowled and stumbled back as she twisted to get her back against the wall.

Snarling, the two toms scrambled to their paws. "Yer gonna pay fer that un missy," one hissed angrily. The other sneered. "Yer fur'll be a nice addition to our nests pretty"

Flick ignored these taunts. Many cats tried to unsettle their opponents with harsh words, but she found silence did the job better. Plus, it was a waste of breath.

With the lightning speed that had won her the name Flick, she lashed out, claws glinting in the moonlight. One paw caught the first tom in the head as her back paw lashed out to slam into the second cats stomach as he reared onto his back legs. She twisted in the air, so she landed with her back to the opposite wall.

The two toms, now thoroughly cut up, glared and lunged, determined to take the offensive this time. Flick backed up as far as she could, snarling and lashing out with both paws. Even so, sheer weight got the best of her and she was forced to the ground. She made herself not to panic as she was pinned to the hard cement, but when teeth met teeth through her shoulder and pain lanced from her leg to her tail, she couldn't suppress a yowl.

Suddenly, the weight was gone and a screech split the night air. One tom was stumbling back, the Pet-kitty latched to his back, eyes wide in shock at what she had done. Flick wasted no time. She turned to the other tom, who was staring dumbly at his partner, and pinned him to the ground, sinking her fangs into his shoulder. As he yowled, she withdrew, and closed in for the killing blow.

"No!" a voice yowled. Flick whipped around. The Pet-kitty's opponent was gone and she was staring at Flick in horror.

Using her brief distraction, the tom wriggled out from under her and vanished after his friend.

"Now see whatchya did?" Flick hissed savagly, fur bristling. The Pet-kitty flinched, but held her gaze. "You can't kill him," she mewed, voice shaking. "That would be murder."

Flick glared. "D' ye know why I'm alive today? 'cause all m' enemies are dead. S'how the street works, though you wouldn' know."

The Pet-kitty didn't answer, so Flick, leading the way out of the alley, mewed gruffly, "What're ye doin' 'ere? Who are ye?"

"My name is Sprinkle. I'm lost."

Flick snorted. "Sprinkle? Sheesh, tha's a bad name. I'm gonna call ye… Frost. So, Frost, do ye know any thing special 'bout yer street? If'n ye do, I c'n prolly find it."

Sprinkle shook her head. "There was nothing remarkable about my street. And my name is Sprinkle."

Flick shrugged. "Firs' off, yer new name be Frost. Second, if'n ye don't know anythin' bout yer home, yer a street cat now. I'd suggest ye take off the collar, seein as there are no tags on it."

Frost shrugged and mewed, "Could you help please? I can't get it off myself. How does street life work."

As Flick moved over and grasped the collar in her teeth, she mewed, "Ye don't sound to upset, leavin' the easy life." She pulled away from Frost as the she-cat backed up, answering; "I didn't much like my indoor life. It was boring and all my human did was brush me and pet me. It was quite annoying. I snuck outside this morning and was chased by a dog, then got lost. I'll probably stumble along my home sometime, but for now I'll have some adventures."

Flick rolled her eyes. By this time tomorow, Frost would wish she had never set paw outside of her home. Pet-kitties were _not_ cut out for street life. But for now, she may as well be informed.  
"Well, ye see, at the mo' there are ony' four big gangs, the Streetrats, mine, the Sewermice, though they usually run th' unerground, the Dirtrollers, they run most o' th' parks, though every gangs got a' least one, and the Mudwalkers, who 'ave a series of allies. The Warf Cats are sorta a gang, though their boundries ne'er change. They live in the Cove and patrol the docks. No organizashin', no leader, nothin'. Nastier, meaner, tougher cats ye'll ne'er meet."

She fell back with a grunt, the collar hanging from her jaws. Spitting it on the ground, she started forward and Frost followed. "Then there's loners like meself who belong to a gang, but keep to 'emselves. Ye see, most gang cats live on a gang territory in groups, but loners don't. Though they're still part of a gang they fend fer 'emselves. Roamer, on th' o'er paw, are part o' no gang. They have little teeny territories and live in groups of two or three or alone. Tha's who trapped you in th' alley."

The two cats were now a few blocks from the offending alley. The dump was just around the corner. "My advice; find yerself a gang. Head back the ways we come and keep goin'. A Streetrat cat'll find ye."

Frost blinked. "I'm coming with you."

Flick snorted. "No ye ain't. I travel alone."

She trotted away.

Frost followed.

Whipping around so that Frost had to draw back to keep from hitting her, Flick snapped, "I travel alone! I don't kit-sit lost Pet-kitties. Now go!" Wheeling around she stalked off and it was a moment before she realized she was being followed.

She sighed, but didn't look back. It looked like she had caught herself a partner, whether she like it or not.

_**The Clan cats will play a part in this soon, I'm just introducing street life. Even so, she won't meet a Clan cat for a while. This doesn't take place in Firestar's two-leg place, it takes place in a city. Any questions about the gang organization or anthing, just ask (when you review -wink wink-). PLEASE review. PLEASE! The next chapter will get into the plot.**_


	2. Trouble

**_Disclaimer: I own only what was not in the books_**

Thanks to:

Crowfood: Thanks! -grins- The accents are fun to read, but get a bit annoying to write. I still like it though!

Mademoiselle Giry: Glad you like it!

EveningSongEnchantment: I'm glad, and same here! And Flick is SO much fun to write about! I still like my First Prophecy fic best though, but like you, I might come to like this one.

Little Miss Sparrow: Updated as soon as I could! Enjoy this chappie!

Chapter 2: Trouble

No cat stirred in the ravine as Firestar strode through Thunderclan's new home. Even the sentry, Brightheart, was dozing lightly. He didn't blame her. At this time of night, every cat should be asleep.

He made his way to Cinderpelt's den, treading carefully past his sleeping daughter, as not to wake her.  
The Medicine Cat was, as he'd expected, still awake, sorting through herbs.

"You should be asleep," Cinderpelt mewed without looking up. "We've a Gathering tomorrow."

Firestar sat down beside her and raised and eyebrow. (a/n- I know cats don't have eyebrows, but you catch my drift) "So should you," he retorted.

This time she looked up. "_I_ don't have to speak in front of all the Clans tomorrow," she purred. "It would be a shame if our great leader fell out of Greattree out of exaustion. Is there something you need?"

Firestar nodded. "I can't sleep," he admitted, "I was wondering if I could have some poppy. I hate to take it, but I've had a hard time sleeping for the past few nights."

Cinderpelt nodded, "Wait right here," and disappeared further into the den. She emerged a moment later with a small seed in her mouth. "Go back to your den and eat this. It'll knock you out," she purred.

He gave her ear a quick lick. "Thanks Cinderpelt. Now you go to bed. It's late."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes mother," she mewed sarcastically, padding over to her nest and settling down. "Now shoo. How can I sleep with you tramping around my den?" She flicked her tail over her eyes and Firestar left, suppressing a purr.

He picked his way back to his den under Highledge and, flopping down onto his nest, swallowed the small seeds. As soon as he closed his eyes, he was beset by a dream.

_He walked through a whirlwind of images, all moving around him so swiftly he couldn't make out what was what. The stink of two-leg monsters filled his nose, the only still place being beneath his paws.  
_

_The images parted before him, but never let him escape their cacoon. He strode foward, realizing it wasn't dirt or grass beneath his paws, but the hard touch of a Thunderpath and the crunch of snow. The images continued to spin, a blur of memories. Now, though, there was sound. _

_Yowling, screeching, snarling. The sounds of anger, pain, hate, grief. The images kept spinning, the sounds blurring, fading, returning. The roar of a two-leg monster. He felt dizzy, as if he head would simply burst from the barrage of images and sounds. Then, quite suddenly, it stopped. _

_There were not more images and all was quiet and still. He was no longer striding down a hard Thunderpath, but standing on an island. Above him stretched a tree, as large as the ones at Fourtrees. The new Gathering place. _

_A familiar scent; a familiar voice. "Firestar. Times of trouble lie ahead. Death brews in the forest and danger stalks the land. Lightning will come from the land of chaos and plunge all into ruin. Only then can you be saved." Spottedleaf's scentdisappeared along with her voice and Firestar's eyes snapped open_.

Gasping, Firestar shot out of his den and into the early morning light. Most of the camp was still asleep, though a few cats were stirring in the warriors den and the dawn patrol was setting out as the moonhigh patrol returned. Some early hunters were making their way back into camp as well, prey clutched in their jaws.

The activity of the clan soothed Firestar. _Something wrong with the poppy seed,_ he thought._ I was just remembering the last days in the old forest._

But even as he started forward to see what the moonhigh patrol had to report, he couldn't help remembering that the Clans had left before leaf-bare. There had been no snow on the ground.

* * *

The pigeon pecked idly at the seeds the two-leg, dressed for bed, threw to him, unaware of any danger. Flick rolled here eyes from where she crouched behind it, then lunged. Before the animal could even squawk, it was dead. The two-leg screamed and fled. 

"We'll go t' ano'er side o' the park tomorrow, as this pigeon 'ill fill us up fer a while. Ye 'ave to' try yerself. Pigeons are easy t' catch inf'n ye stay downwind an' quiet," she mewed to Frost, who had been watching carefully. "Then we gotta go t' th' dump an' check up on Sally Boneses sis. Af'er that we go back t' Sally an' report. I wanna get it all done by tomorrow's dawn, so we's gotta make it fas'. Now, share this bird wit' me."

The two she-cats made shrot work of the large, plump, pigeon.

"Always bury th' bones," Flick told Frost absently. As the white cat gathered up the bones and took them away, Flick rose and stretched, thinking. The dump was just around the corner and this time of night was perfect to approach, as all cats would be up and about.

Frost emerged from the bushes. "I buried the bones behind a bush," she mewed. Her eyes were wide and she looked ready to do anything Flick asked of her. Secretly, the she-cat wondered how long this good consideration would last. Frost didn't look like a cat who took orders easily.But rather than voice her doubts, she mewed simply, "Good. Stick clos' t' me and if anythin' happens, I mean anythin', run. Run and don'look back. Those dump cats kin ge' pretty rough."

Flick suppressed a grin as Frost gulped and nodded. It was, of course, a lie. Infights happened all the time, but Flick was on pretty good terms with the dump cats. They wouldn't lay a claw to her. Frost, fortunately, didn't know that. It was the only way Flick could think of to get her to behave.

Flick leapt onto a fence that separated this two-leg's yard from the next one and padded easily across. Frost teetered precariously behind her, clinging to the boards with unsheathed claws as she stepped forward uncertainly.

A tree provided a bridge of sorts to the next fence, so Flick, who had no desire to see if the monstrous dog sleeping below liked cats or nor, leapt onto the nearest branch and padded across. It was only when she was safely on the other side that she realized Frost, who was usually so chattery chatty, had fallen silent.She turned to look and gasped.

The white cat had leapt onto a springy, weak branch and was only just managing to hang on. Her bottom half was dangling toward the ground and the branch, bent under her weight, put her tail right in front of the sleeping dog's nose. As he exhaled, the white fur was blown back and as he took a breath in, the fur was sucked forward. Luckily for Frost, she was downwind so it would take the dog longer to smell her.

"Okay," Flick breathed. One noise to loud would wake the sleeping beast. "Try clawin' yer way up th' branch. Go on. If'n ye wait any longer, ye'll be dogfood."

Slowly, the younger she-cat pulled herself about a tail length up, paw over paw. Now her back legs dangled over the big dog's house. If she let go, she would land on the roof.

Flick had a sudden idea. "When I say so, le' go an' jump fer the fence," she whispered, leaping lightly down from the fence and creeping toward the dog house. She gathered up her shaking legs and leapt up.Once on top, she breathed a sigh of relief, though she couldn't suppress a surge of pride. Very few cats could sneak past a dog. Then again, the dog could easily get them on the roof, as it stood at least a tail-length taller.

"Okay," she breathed so quietly she was not sure if Frost even heard her, "le' go… NOW!" The final word erupted from her in a screech.

Frost dropped like a stone and landed on the roof with a thud, immediately lunging for the fence. She scrambled up and started shakily across before the dog even realized what was happening. It didn't take long though. The animalleapt to his paws, barking hoarsely and started toward the fence. Flick leapt. If he slammed against the boards that Frost struggled across, an unbalanced cat like her would go flying.

Flick landed on the dogs head screeching bloody murder, sinking claws and fangs into his unprotected head. She knew it didn't hurt, protected as he was by rolls of skin, but it distracted him. He reared onto his hind legs, snarling and barking as the disgusting taste of dog filled Flick's mouth. At last, when she was sure she had his attention, she leapt clear, spitting hair from her mouth.

_Disgustin' creature,_ she thought coolly. Dogs were big, but stupid. If you handled them right, you could wrap them around your paw.

She waited until he was a mere tail-length away before leaping suddenly to the side. The big dog slipped on the mud and fell, sliding. Using his distraction, Flick glanced at the fence and swore. Frost still had half the way to go.

The dog was up and moving again. Flick made sure his chain was secure around the pole in the ground she had purposely led him around, then fled. Weaving in and out of lawn figures, trees, plants, chairs, two-leg kit toys, and a table, Flick made sure his leash was thoroughly tangled, though all the while she felt his hot breath on her flanks. She chanced a glance at the fence and sighed in relief. Frost was there.

Whipping suddenly around, she lashed out at the dog, catching his soft nose with her claws. He yelped and drew back. She fled to the building and the dog, now recovered, followed. She stood calmly, one paw raised slightly, and waited. He was three tail-lengths away…two…one. She slipped to the side and the dog charged passed her--right into the wall of the two-leg nest and around a final pole.

Flick sat a few tail-lengths away and watched, triumphant, as he slowly recovered. He blinked at her, then seemed to remember why his head hurt so much, and lunged. She didn't bat an eyelash as his jaws closed a whisker's width from her face. The dog lunged again, but his chain was so thoroughly tied he could go no farther. He was stuck.

Flick batted him lightly on the nose. "Ye should stick t' doggy food them two-legs give ye, mate," she mewed, mock friendly, then turned and calmly padded away, leaping onto the fence where Frost waited, slack jawed. She leapt down, signaling for Frost to do the same. Once safely on the ground, Flick began to wash away dog slobber, aware of her student's stare. She tried to ignore it. It made her feel uncomfortable.

Finally, the white she-cat gasped, "That was amazing! I wish I could fight and run like that and be so… so _calm _about it."

Flick stopped mid-lick and stared at her, mouth still wide open. Only when a fly flew into her gaping jaws and made her choke did she close them with a snap. After she had coughed the insect out, she rasped hoarsely (throat now thoroughly cut up) "Ye mean t' say ye ne'er learned 'ow to fight? Or even distract a beast?"

Frost shook her head. "Mother thought it was loutish, for street cats."

Flick snorted and returned to her washing. "Well, yer a stree' cat now, so I'm gonna 'ave to teach ye. Now come on, we still 'ave t' reach th' dump." She got to her paws and shook herself quickly, thinking. Today they had been lucky. But who knew what tomorrow might bring. Frost had to learn how to fight, and fight well. It was the only way to survive in the street.

* * *

Flick trotted into the two-leg dump, Frost walking so close to her heels that she kept tripping. It was unusually quiet for this time of night. Typically the dump was alive when the moon shone. Rats and mice thrived here, despite the cats, and birds, like seagulls, often stopped here too. Even in the snow, the cats were always about. But now everything was covered in white, not a paw print to be seen, and all was silent. 

"Wait 'ere'," Flick murmured and, as Frost looked at her like she had just asked her to eat her own ears, she slid into the shadows to investigate. There was no sign of any cat. She crept through the snow and discarded two-leg junk, and searched for any sign or scent of cats. There was nothing.

Suddenly, Frost screeched from far away and there was the sound of paws scrabbling madly on snow and the heaps of two-leg rubbish. Flick wheeled around and sprinted toward the sound, dodging a broken monster and a two-leg shoe. She scrambled down a heap of junk to where Frost was standing, and panted, "Wha' happened?"

"Very jumpy frien' ye 'ave there Flick," a cool voice mewed. Flick looked up and relaxed. It was only Twist, though the sight of him could send even a two-leg screaming. He had been mauled terribly by the dog that had slaughtered his family when he was a young tom. Although it was said he had, at one time, been handsome, his once sleek black fur was ragged. Half of his nose was peeled off, and one eye and eyelid were missing, leaving only an open socket filled with scar tissue. One ear was gone, the other in shreds, and the fur on half his face and part of his neck and chest had been peeled off to reveal pink skin. A scar ran over his good eye, past his ear and to his shoulder.  
When he had lost his looks, he had taken to fighting. Brawls with other cats, which, legend had it, he had never lost, had left him more scars, though smaller and a tail, broken in two places.A bad incident with a two-leg monster had twisted one of his paws so it was facing out rather than forward, causing him to limp heavily. He was older now, though no less fierce and he had yet to loose a fight with any cat, no matter how young and fit.

"She was a Pet-kitty 'til a bit ago. Still doesn't know th' ways o' the street yet," Flick mewed as he climbed nimbly down the rubble to touch noses with her. "Her name be Frost. Or, twas Sprinkle," at this, Twist snorted and Flick grinned, "but I 'ad to change it."

Twist limped slowly around the white cat, inspecting her as he would a juicy mouse. At last he sat back and said, "She's not much t' the eye, pretty, don' ge' me wrong, bu' not muscley, li' most street-cats, though she on'y been out of 'er nest fer a bit. But she got spirit. I kin see tha'. Bu' ye canna've come t' visit me. Ye didn't even know I was 'ere. What brought ye t' th' dump Flick?"

The she-cat sighed. "I was lookin' fer Sally Boneses sis, Tam. She here?"

Twist looked troubled. "I cem 'ere a few days gone, t' see if th' rats were runnin' good and I found em. They was all dead, fer not but a few hours. Twas sickness, it twas. Well, one was live, bu' barely. 'E tol' me it 'ad started 'bout two days gone. The cats 'ad all taken sick. First, twas nothin'. Then a belly-ache. Then a worse 'un, and a fever. Eventually th' cat would die in a troubled, fevered sleep. Some passed easier 'an others ye see. Some writhed and screeched and twisted fer hours, while others sorta faded 'e said. Then 'e fell back asleep and died, mumbling 'bout talkin' mice."

Flick stared. What kind of sickness could wipe out all nine dump cats in two days? "What'll 'appen now," she rasped.

The old tom shrugged. "It'll spread. A plague among cats li' this is needed e'ry once in a while. Our gangs ge' to big, see? Small sicknesses ge' bigger and sprea' inta somethin' more. E'ery ally an' sewer an' park'll burn wit' it and then it jus' ends." The old cat stared intently at her. "I won' make it through this 'un. I was 'ere wit' the dead fer to long an' I've no mind to travel. Rather end m'days 'ere, where I belong. Bu' ye, ye, could escape yet."

Flick snorted. "I ain't leavin' my 'ome," she mewed bluntly. She shoved down the small voice that said simply: I couldn't . "Where would I go," she went on. "There's no o'er place 'cept the city where a cat li' me could survive."

"Wrong," the old tom snapped, glaring at her intently. "Y're a natrul' in the stree', no doubt 'bout tha', but what makes ye so great a' it ain't only fer life as a Streetrat. Ye've the spirit an' instinct an' skills t' live where-e'er ye want. Bu' mos' of all, ye 'ave the will. The will t' survive. Make yer way outa th' city," he urged, "Through the slums and 'ighways and inta th' wild. Look fer the forest clans."

Flick, who had been hoping, despite her reluctance, for _something _let her hopes drain away as she snorted, "Ye know as well as I that th' forest Clans 'er on'y legend, tales fer kits on a col' win'er's night."

"Wrong again," the cat murmured. "Me granpappy came from the Clans. Tol' me all 'bout them and said to me, 'If'n ye e'er need t' leave this place, flee to the fore' clans an' tell em' that Dappletail's firs' kit, the blin' one carried 'way by the 'awk long go, sent ye.' 'E said they'd remember. And he was blin'. Jus' _try _Flick. Even if'n they aren't ther, by th' time ye return, the sickness'll be gone."

_**Short, I know, and a bit useless, but she learned about the Clans, the sickness, and Firestar recieved a message from StarClan. Oh, just so you know, the kit I was talking about isn't Snowkit from the Warriors books. He was only mentioned when Snowkit was taken away. Dappletail said she had a kit in her first litter that was blind and was carried away by a hawk. THATS the one I'm talking about.  
Anyway, PLEASE review. **_


	3. EXPLANATION

_**I know all my faithful readers are ready to kill me now. I haven't updated in AGES. I'm SO sorry. I've been SO busy. Track for two hours after school EVERY day. Every other Thursday we have a meet, so thats about 3-4 hours. PLUS I've had LOADS of hmwk as teachers try to cram everything in at the last minute, I work at the barn every day for an hour at least and I ride on Saturday and Sunday, and I've got this stupid sciece fair project thats due in a week. PLUS I'd like to shower daily, eat regularly, and get at least 6 hours of sleep a night if I can fit it into my schedule (SARCASM, I shower every day). I also hang out with my friends every spare minute and I have to do a bit on Hidden Clans a couple of times a week. SO I'll start typing the next chappie tomorow, but please bear with me! Once summers here, I'm free! Only 35 more days! Whoot whoot!**_

_**Please, hang in there a bit longer. **_

_**shnitzenhimer **_


	4. Dreams and Death

**_Disclaimer: (I gotta find another word for that. Its SO boring) I own only what was not in the books._**

****Thanks to:

HoneyFeather: Yea, the story needed a bit of action, so I just added that. And I wanted to show off Flick awsomeness! Yay Flick! The dog was supposed to be a bull massive or something along those lines. AHH! Okay, I won't take it down! -grins-

Little Miss Sparrow: Yea, I got that detail from a fic I'm writing. (My Bluestar one called 'All the Stars in the Sky' that I took down for revison) I remembered a LOT of details for that, and now ones comeing in useful for another fic! I love making things make sense like that. And thanks for understanding about the whole schedule thing!

EveningSongEnchantment: The kit just got adopted by a gang I guess and was raised. It wasn't really important to the story, though now you've got me thinking and I might have to add another to the HUGE list of fics I have to finish on my profile. -grins-

Bramblebelly: Thanks, and I updated as soon as I could!

MagicalStarlight: I'm sure I would accept OC cats, if I knew what they were... hee hee...

Authors note: I AM SO SORRY! I hadn't realized that people had been reviewing. You see, usually the reviews are sent straight to my email, but for some reason they stopped. So when people reviewed I didn't know and I'd check my inbox and see nothing. Whoops!

Chapter 3: Dreams and Death

Frestar dragged weary paws to his nest. Although it was only sunset, he was worn out. After the dawn and sunhigh border patrols, and two hunting patrols, he was exhausted. He still had to prepare for the moonhigh patrol. He flopped onto his nest, only to leap up as his body hit something hard. A rabbit. He gratefully lay down again, only now realizing how hungry he was, and crunched thoughtfully on the fresh-kill's leg.

As it always did when he had a moment off, one of the reasons he had been keeping himself so busy, his mind wandered back to the strange dream. What could it mean? It made no sense to him what so ever. Maybe he'd ask Cinderpelt about it. He felt better for finally coming to a decstion.Finishing the rabbit, he closed his eyes and slept.

_Again, he prowled across the cold, hard stone of a Thunderpath. Again the images and noises swirled around him. This time, they were the slightest bit louder and more vivid then usual. He caught glimpses of the images and the noise pounded louder in his head._

_Suddenly, the way before him parted and he saw, not a two-leg place as the smells had portrayed, but instead a hill, covered in long waving grass. The sky was dotted with stars and the gentle breeze blew away the smells of two-leg and brought instead the scent of water and the wild. The sound behind him were muted, but the images seemed to fade. At the top of the hill, made small by the distance, sat a cat. He could see only the dark silhouette against the bright stars, but then lightening split the skies thunder rolled. The cat didn't flinch. _

_Suddenly, the images and sounds returned with a roar. Desperate, he didn't want to be stuck in that cocoon of chaos and confusion again, Firestar ran for the ever shrinking dot of darkness that was the only relief in the blinding swirl of images . He ran and ran until his lungs felt they would burst, but the pinhole of the wild never came closer. A voice echoed through his head, only four words; "The lightening comes closer."_

_

* * *

_

"Ol' fool," Flick muttered guiltily to herself. She had snapped angrily at the Twist and stalked out of the dump, Frost scuttling along behind her. It was only now, three blocks away, that she cooled down enough to feel bad. He had only been trying to help her. She would apologize in a bit, after it was obvious that the dump cats hadn't died of an illness, but rather gotten into some two-leg rat poison or something.

"Um, Flick," Frost mewed nervously, "aren't we supposed to report to your leader now, Susie or whatever?"

Flick skidded to a halt, paws suddenly cold. She had forgotten. She did not want to be in the Gang leaders presence when she found out her sister was dead. They'd have to simply avoid the main alley for a while, until some other unfortunate cat was forced to suffer the wrath the Streetrat leader would reap on the messenger of such news. But then she realized that as soon as Sally Bones found out, she'd scour the entire city, all Gang land, for the loner Flick who had failed to do as she was bid. They had no choice.

Flick licked suddenly dry lips with an equally dry tongue. If ever she had been scared of something, it was Sally Bones in a temper. That cat was mad, through and through. "We'll 'ave to report t' er. Don' see no way 'round it. But if'n we live through et, we'll 'ave to keepa low profile fer a while, ye know?"

Frost nodded. "How long will it take to get to this home alley?"

Flick shrugged. "I took th' long way las' time, tryin' t' put off th' job. It'll take 'bout a day. If'n we start now, we'll be there by sunset." With that, she turned into a dark side alley. The alleys were dangerous; one could easily get lost in them and it was the perfect place for ambushes, but if you knew your way around there was no way faster. Frost, after a moment of hesitation, followed.

(Frost's POV)

Frost followed obediently after for the rest of the morning. They moved at a steady, swift jog that was almost a lope. Occasionally Flick would break into a run and Frost would try her best to follow. But where the seasoned street campaigner was fit and tough, Frost had only been on the street a few days. By noon she was gasping and stumbling behind her mentor. Her paws felt as if they would fall off as she stumbled along behind the form of her well built, gray mentor and the dark alleys were giving her the creeps.

But she stayed silent, for once. She sensed Flick's desire for quiet and could see the cat was thinking hard. Glancing up at the sun, she saw it was sunhigh. With a sigh, she forced her paws to work, and followed her mentor.

(Flick's POV)  
"If I go a step further, my paws will fall off! May we stop and get something to eat?" Frost complained, collapsing onto the hard concrete.

Flick was jolted from her thoughts and stared at her student for a moment. She'd completely forgotten she was there. The younger cat was obviously exhausted and Flick felt bad for having forgotten she was new to all this. "Wai' 'ere. I'll go get us some grub and somethin' to drink and we'll rest fer a bit. Tis th' 'ottest part o' the day now, so we'll sleep through it." She started down a side alley, calling over her shoulder, "Stay there an' if anythin' 'appens, just shout!"

Pushing all troubled thoughts out of her mind, she put all her senses to searching out prey. There were rats, but they were always string and tough and hard on the stomachs of those not used to eating them. Frost wouldn't be able to hold one down.

Instead, she focused on a mouse that was burrowing in the wall of a two-leg nest. She crept through the garbage cans and dumpsters, following her ears to the location of the prey. She spotted it, nibbling at some plastic siding, and pounced, flicking it briefly into the air and letting it fall back down to earth. It squealed as it hit the ground and to Flick's surprise, there were several small squeals in return.

She pinned the mouse to the ground, ignoring the little fangs sinking into her paw, and inspected a small crack in the wall. Three little mice-kits, blind and hairless, squirmed on a soft bedding of two-leg material. The squeaked helplessly for their mother and Flick felt a surge of sympathy.

She tried to push it out of her mind, knowing that it was impossible to survive in the street with sympathy and, after all, she'd orphaned countless kit-animals before, but the motherly feeling rose swiftly and a voice in her head murmured _Its four less lives to be taken in the days ahead_.

Before she knew it she had sheathed her claws and the mother mouse squirmed from under her paw and scrabbled to stand before her little ones.

Flick backed away, _completely _disgusted with herself, and left in search of more prey.

* * *

It was dusk when they reached the Home Alley and Flick expected it to be milling with cats ready to hunt. Instead, it was quiet and no cats slipped in or out of the alley entrance. 

Frowning, Flick sniffed the air. This was not right. She drew back suddenly, gasping. It was the same smell as the one at the dump! The disease was here!

She motioned for Frost to stay where she was, then slipped into the alley. The stench of the dead hit her like a wave, mingling with that of dung and urine since most of the sick cats had lost control of their bladders. It stank of crow-food. Corpses sprawled everywhere, stretched out in gruesome positions, mouths wide open and slavering. Some were still alive and groaning, while others lay unmoving. Many, she noticed, had had their throats slashed open. Did the disease make them mad as well?

Horror struck, she traipsed through the bloodstained snow, past the groans of dieing cats and the frozen corpses of those who had already passed on. She scrambled onto the dumpster and peered over the edge into the courtyard where Sally Bones kept her innermost circle.

It was no better than what was going on in the alley, except no cat here appeared to be alive. The stink was even worse, overwhelming, and Flick felt herself retch. She turned and made for the entrance of alley at a run. She burst into the wintry light and threw up all over the snow.

Frost hurried over. "Are you okay? What happened?"

She was interrupted by a screeching snarl. Flick whipped around and recognized the pelt of the tabby she-cat who she had seen just two days ago fighting for a scrap of meat. She was barely recognizable. Her fur was ragged and matted, stuck to her sides with dung, mud, saliva, and blood. Her bones stuck out all over, and Flick could probably have counted how many she had. Foam dripped from her jaws and her eyes were insane, full of hate, grief, pain, and madness.

She uttered that odd screeching wail again, and the sound made Flick's hair stand on end. Then she jumped, claws unsheathed. Flick leapt to the side, knocking Frost out of harms way. "Run!" she cried, knowing that if she stayed, the white she-cat would only get in the way.  
Frost ran.

Flick whipped around to face the tabby, who was stumbling closer. She would have to kill her with only claws. If she got any of that cats blood into her mouth, she would die.

Suddenly, another screeching wail split the air and the tortoiseshell who had fought with the tabby a few days ago sprang out of the darkness, in no better condition than her companion. Panicking for what felt like the first time in her life, Flick jerked around, looking desperately from one to the other. She back away slowly, but her back met wall. She groaned. The one time she didn't want a wall at her back…

Suddenly, there was a third snarl, and Flick thought for sure it was another mad cat, but then a familiar black pelt streaked out of the darkness and bowled the two cats into each other.

Twist leapt off of them and snarled without looking away from his adversaries, "Run!"

She glared, "I'm not gonna leave you 'ere to die!" she snapped back.

Now he turned to face her. "U'm already dead! Th' illness' ll be on me soon! May as well make a use o' my life. I'druther go down fightin'. Head fer the forest, through Warf Cat territory! Now go!" With that, the she-cats launched themselves at him and he vanished under a swirl of fur.

Flick fled, pausing briefly to look back as Twist heaved upward and threw the cats off, shifting into his legendary fighting stance.

Then she left her Home Alley for the last time.

Frost was waiting for her around the corner, looking panicked. "Flick! Thank goodness you're alright! What--"

"Quiet," Flick snapped, forcing back tears as the thought of Twist. "We're leavin'. Now. Foller me."

The alley cat turned and fled, running as hard as her paws would carry her toward the Warf Cat territory. She didn't look back to see if Frost could keep up. At last she skidded to a halt as the smell of fish and salt water and low tide swept over her. She stared at the ground as Frost collapsed, breathing heavily.

"Don' si' down," Flick murmured absently, the thought coming automatically, "it'll make it worse. Walk it off." She stared harder at the ground. One step further and she'd be off Streetrat territory for good. One step further and she'd be an alley cat no more. One step further and she'd be off, into the unknown, toward the adventure of a lifetime that she didn't want.

She lifted her head and motioned with her tail to Frost, then took a deep breath and stepped over the scent line. It had begun.

* * *

Far away in a circle of flattened, bloodstained snow, surrounded by the bodies of two large she-cats, an old mangled black tom, once the greatest fighter in the entire city, gasped out his last breath as his spirit drifted to a place beyond the stars where legends live.

_**Okay, I know that I considering I haven't updated in so long, this chappie was a disapointment. It was short and the first half really had no point. But its something, right? I'm SO sorry. As I've said, I'm REALLY busy between school, friends, and sports. I've got stuff every hour of every day going on and I barely get time alone. I promise, schools almost out and then I'll have all the time in the world. Or at least the summer. **_

_**Reviews help keep me motivated. This chappie probably wouldn't be up but for the reviews (and ESE. -grins-) SOOO PLEASE review! I need em! **_


	5. Into the Slums

Disclaimer: I own only what was not in the books.

Thanks to:

EveningSongEnchantment: -grins- yea, and its all your falt! We'll meet the clans soon, but the journey is part of the story, so you'll have to wait! mwa ha ha ha!

Little Miss Sparrow: (repeating after L.M.S) "These chapters are NOT useless." Lol! thanx! I updated asap!

Sunfrost: thanx!

Chapter 4: Into the Slums

_Ghosts padded through Firestar's dreams that night. He didn'tknow who they were, but they stared mournfully at him through helpless, pain filled eyes. Their fur was ragged and matted and their bones stuck out from under their flea-bitten skin. They were covered in open wounds and sores that had been tainted yellow with disease.  
For some reason, Firestar felt no fear, only revulsion and a deep grief and sadness._

_Suddenly, he was no longer standing on the flat open plains where the ghosts had found him, but beside the lake. The hill stretched out above him, but the strange cat was not there this time. The sun shone brightly overhead._

_Suddenly, the screech of a hawk broke the still air. The massive hunting bird glided gracefully despite the motionless air, momentarily blocking out the sun. The form of a squirrel struggled helplessly in his talons. The puddle of water at Firestar's side rippled in a nonexistent wind._

_Without warning, another, more raucous, screech split the air and a crow collided with the hawk and lightning cracked as a storm rolled in where there had been no clouds before. Torn up from the crow, the hawk saw the brigh flash too late and was struck. With an earsplitting scream that sent shivers down Firestar's spine, the bird fell. _

_He tumbled to earth and collapsed in a patch of brambles, rolling slowly off to land in the puddle beside Firestar. As the squirrel, miraculously alive, ran free, the hawk gasped his last breath and died._

_Firestar watched in awed silence as the water slowly froze, from where the hawk lay spreading, across the puddle, until it reached the edge. Frost gathered on the grass and expanded rapidly, covering the hills, spreading toward the lake in the bat of an eyelash.  
Firestar began to panic. Something told him that he could not let the frost reach the lake._

_Suddenly, more lightning sparked the skies and struck the frost just as it neared the lake's edge. It drew back like a cat from an adder._

_Golden forks of energy struck all around him and wind blew, whipping his fur and bringing to him the wail of cats and the smell of blood. The wind swirled around and around, the sounds and smells growing overwhelming. He shut his eyes.  
As soon as he did, the sound vanished and the wind stopped. He chanced a peek out of one eyelid. All was back to normal and the body of the hawk was beginning to fade. All but the eyes, which remained as bright as ever._

_Firestar peered closely at them and gasped. They were ice blue._

_Suddenly, flames roared in the blue orbs and Firestar felt as if he were being pushed in by an invisible wind from behind as the blue eyes turned amber. The look was one Firestar had thought he would never see again; ambition and a blood thirsty hatred. _

_Firestar was pushed into the fire still struggling. He whipped around but the hill and lake were gone. He was surrounded by shadow and flame. A snarl drew his attention back to the flames that were roaring ever higher._

_At first he could see nothing, the tiger's pelt matched the inferno. It was only when the huge animal leapt out, teeth drawn back, claws unsheathed that he saw if fully. The great cat started to pad forward, a look of malicious intent and triumph in its eyes._

_Even as he struggled to back up, Firestar felt his paws sliding forward as the tiger drew ever closer. _

_Suddenly, there was a roll of thunder and lightning flickered and Firestar saw the tiger melting in shape, from a giant cat to the hawk with blue eyes and they were no longer in the dark place, but soaring low over a forest and a moor. The great lake sprawled beneath them and Firestar knew they were moving over the clans' new home. _

_But it was different. Fire rampaged and far below he heard cats yowl and a terrible, snarling roar and Firestar knew that the tiger was there and destroying his home._

_The bird mounted a little higher and where it went, the land wilted and diedn as frost replaced the tigers fire. Then there was another bolt of golden electricity and everything went black._

_For a moment, Firestar floated in the total darkness, then a voice murmured,_ "_The threat of the tiger has not left the clans. Beware the enemy who seems to sleep, for he is not yet finished. Watch for the coming of the storm, for it bears the lightning. But remember; lightning is as dangerous as fire and as fierce as a tiger. Yet without it, there would be no thunder."_

_

* * *

_

Flick uncurled herself, stretching each limb carefully. She rose. It was dawn and she and her student had been sleeping since midnight. Not a long rest, but then, they didn't have much time. She glanced at Frost once more,deciding if she should leave her to sleep while she hunted, or wake her up and get going. But seeing the weariness in every line of her body, she remembered how unused to the street she was and decided to let her sleep.

_Plus_, Flick added with an internal grin, _we star' fight trainin today._

Flick slipped off into the alleys and when she returned half an hou later with two mice (she wanted to hunt sparingly since they were on the Warf Cat territory) the white she-cat was still sleep.

"Frost," she murmured, poking her student, "wake-y wake-y. S'time to eat, then we gotta get moving. And we ge' t' star' trainin' today!" she added with sarcastic excitement.

Frost groaned. "I just fell asleep," she muttered heaving herself to her paws and stretching. "I'm parched. Is there anything to drink?"

"Ga'er up some untouched snow an' le' it melt in yer mouth. Then swallow. S'all we got. Remember; never drink th' puddles aside th' roads. They're tainted. A' best, they'll give ye a bellyache, at wors' they'll kill ye. Then eat," she added, nudging a mouse toward Frost.

As the white she-cat melted snow in her mouth, Flick gobbled down her food and gave herself a good wash as Frost did the same.

"Okay," the gray she-cat growled when she saw Frost was looking adequately awake again. "I'm gonna start by showin' ye a few fightin' stances an' th' basic blows an' blocks, if'n we 'ave time. Firs' lemee see wha' ye think a fightin' stance should look like."

Frost stood tall, head up. Flick rolled her eyes. Typical pet-kitty. Always had to strike a noble pose. Noble poses got you nowhere on the street.

She lunged and knocked Frost's paws out from under her. "I coulda killed ye," she growled, prowling around her student. She was never an angel, but she was a devil when it came to fighting. You either got it right, or you'd pay! If Frost wanted to survive, she'd have to learn the hard way! She was not kit that had a whole lifetime to learn.

"I coulda killed ye a million differen' ways, actually. Yer throat was bared and yer back was unprotected. Ye were unsteady on yer paws fer tryin' t' stay tall. Ye want to stay low an' keep yer weight centered on th' groun' an' yer paws. Always have yer back to somthin' an' keep yer throat tucked in an' yer head low. Thas' the easiest way fer a cat t' kill yer, is through a head, neck, or throat wound. Try again."

This time Frost moved her back against a dumpster and crouched on the ground. Flick sighed and leapt onto her back before her student could scramble to her paws. She pinned her to the ground, snarling, "If'n ye get yer back against a dumpster a cat could jump ye' without' ye knowing. If there's a wall there, use it! An' don't crouch like a mouse. Be ready t' spring t' yer paws. Use yer tail to center yerself! Again!"

This time, Frost scrabbled to get her back to the alley wall and bent low, but, Flick noted with approval, she kept her weight on her paws and she was tensed to spring. Her tail was stretched out behind her to make it easier to spring up and her eyes followed all of Flick's movements.

Flick crept forward, eyes narrowed, and snarled, "Use all yer senses, not jus' yer eyes. Listen, feel, smell! Pay attention to yer surroundings! Ye never know wha' might me sneakin' up behind ye. Constant vigilance!" (a/en- hee hee… mad-eye moody!)

She lashed suddenly at her student's head, claws sheathed, and sent her rolling. "Constant vigilance," she snarled. She leapt at her student, who scrabbled clumsily to her paws in time to yank her head away from the blow. "Better," Flick growled. "If ye can't avoid th' blows by duckin' or using yer paws to block em, roll with em!"

Encouraged, Frost shifted back into her fighting stance and, using her tail, made sure she had her back to a wall. When Flick lashed out she was ready and not only ducked the blow, but lashed out as well. Flick, with her legendary speed, shifted so the blow flew past her and, with a flick of her paw sent her student crashing into the snow, skidding a few tail lengths.

"Don't ge' cocky," Flick growled. "Ye can't use speed against me, or size, but use yer wits! I've seen a lot, and'll probably see it coming, but ye've seen things too! Things I haven't seen! Use em!"

(Frost's POV)

Frost, panting, backed against a wall, shifting into the fighting stance. Her whole body ached and she had never been so angry. She had seen nothing that she could use to her advantage! Flick was strong, fast, experienced, and smart too! How could she be all that on her first day? She expects me to walk out of my home knowing how to fight! Frost thought incredulously. Then, for some reason, she remembered play-fighting with her brother, back when their mother had let them do that kind of stuff, since they were only kits. Flick, she knew, had been an only-kit, with no siblings. She had a sudden idea.

As Flick lunged, Frost dodged under her legs and heaved up in an unexpected counter attack. She heard Flick puff as the breath left her body, but even as the two she-cats fell to the ground, Flick acted. She shifted her weight back, so when they landed it was her shoulders that hit the ground, not her head or back. The momentum also carried them into a backwards roll and Flick turned out on top. She pinned Frost to the ground.

Frost tensed, expecting a sharp rebuke or a clout to the head. When nothing happened, she peaked out of one eyelid, then opened them both. Flick was staring thoughtfully down at her and Frost was surprised to see a flicker of pride in her eyes. The gray she-cat stepped off and Frost scrambled to her paws.

(Flicks POV)

"I though' that I'd 'ave t' bring ye' t' a shelters doorstep, bu' I guess I was wrong," Flick mewed. Though she would never admit it, her stomach ached from having the wind knocked out of it. "Ye may 'ave a chance yet. Tha's enough fer th' day. Wash up an' be ready t' move soon."

* * *

Flick and Frost padded steadily through Warf Cat territory. It was midday and the sun was beating hard overhead. They had seen many cats that day, lazing in the sun off the docks and enjoying the cool sea air, hunting, or waiting for the fishermen to come in so they could steal dinner. They were all, as was expected, massive. The stood a little more than a full tail length (a/n- lets say a foot and three inches) at the head and their bulky bodies were covered in rippling muscle.

They would stop talking and rough housing long enough to stare at the strangers as they passed, but they made no move to stop them. As long as no one caught them hunting, they wouldn't be bothered.

That didn't worry Flick. It was the fact that the leader wasn't there. In Warf Cat territory, there was no 'leader' was a pretty much empty title. He or she would rule for a bit, then would be beaten or killed a few weeks later. The leaders had a chosen few that followed them, but unlike Gang leaders, they had little control over any cat that didn't go by them. If they wanted to make something work with a reluctant cat, they would have to make sure they outnumbered him or her and whoever would fight on its side.

But the leader was usually alerted when a strange cat came onto the territory by one of its sources and Flick wondered where he or she was. The sickness couldn't have reached here, could it? The cats all looked healthy and the Warf Cat territory was surrounded on all sides by unused territory that the Warf Cats kept but didn't use. The only place where there was a real border was the small patch of land on Streetrat territory, where Flick and Frost had passed through.

As if on cue, a huge light brown tabby stepped out of the shadows. "Slim wants ter speak wit' ye, if ye'll do 'im the honors."

Although stated as a request, Flick knew they had no choice.

Wordlessly they followed the tom through a maze of docks and to an old boat house. The smell of cat was strong, though it mingled with that of fish and seaweed. Flick heard mewing from inside and knew this was the 'leaders' home. After all, the Warf Cats only owned a small portion of alleys, none of them big enough for a home alley.

The big tabby mewed loudly and the noise from inside quieted. "Come in," a voice rasped harshly. The tabby turned and flicked his tail at them, then disappeared through a crack in the door. Flick, after a moments hesitation followed with Frost at her heels.

The boat house was dusty and grimy and filled to the top with cats. Old nets hung the walls and the light shining in through the window was dim from the grimy layer of dust. Cats peeked out at them from under abandoned work tables, all of them towering and huge.

"What were ye doin' on Warf Cat territory?" the raspy voice from outside growled as a cat stepped out of the shadows. He was small, with long black fur, ragged with scars. One leg and one eye were missing, but this didn't seem to slow him down. He limped briskly forward and circled them before mewing, "Well? We're waitin'."

"We was just passin' through," Flick mewed, trying to look as humble as possible. The cat snorted. "Who're ye and who's yer friend? Where was ye passin' through to?"

Flick glanced at Frost to see the she-cat trembling, but glaring around defiantly. She felt a flicker of respect for the brave young she-cat, but pushed it aside. Deciding truth would be best, she mewed, "I'm Flick and this be Frost. We was headin' outa Streetrat territory, fer the forest. Though' we could find a better life there."

The black cat studied them for a moment and Flick forced herself not to get her hopes up. This looked like one unpredictably insane cat. At last he mewed dismissively, "Take 'em into a back alley an' kill em." Flick winced and tensed and she heard Frost whimper beside her as she sank to the ground.

Two cats, the huge one that had brought them here earlier, and a flame colored tom stepped forward and shepherded them out of the building. The cackling of the Warf Cats echoed in their ears as they slipped through the crack in the door.

Flick was putting on a frightened mask, but inwardly, she was cool and calm, thinking. They had two huge Warf Cats, trained and experienced. Flick could take one, and maybe both, but that was if Frost wasn't there. With the white she-cat there, Flick would have to defend two cats at once and she wouldn't stand and chance. This is why I always worked alone, Flick thought resignedly. Frost was a natural fighter, but she wasn't trained and both Warf Cats were huge.

She was so busy thinking that she didn't notice they'd stopped. They were in a back alley near the edge of Warf Cat territory. The two toms turned and the big tabby mewed, "Let's get this over with."

Flick tensed, readying for an attack, but instead, the orange tom mewed, "Head out this way. It leads t' th' slums, which lead outa th' city."

Flick blinked. "Yer not gonna kill us?"

The orange tom sighed. "Slim's insane. He's an amazin' fighter, bu' e's insane. Twas a mistake t' foller 'im. 'e won't las' long though. Some bigger cat'll come along. Tha's 'ow it works. We don' kill innocent cats. Now go!"

Flick nodded her thanks and turned to leave when a yowl split the air. "Traitors!" Flick whipped around to see nine huge Warf Cats step out of the shadows. They were all bristling, heads low, lips drawn back. "Slim thought ye was lettin' 'is prisoners go, an' now we got proof."

Flick glanced at the two toms, debating what to do. Every instinct told her to run while she could, but she couldn't leave these brave cats to die. Since when had she become such a softie?

She leapt onto the leaders back, yowling, and cried, "Run! Head fer the slums! Go!"

The two toms gathered up Frost and fled. As soon as they were out of view, Flick allowed herself to be thrown off the rearing, plunging, tom. She twisted in the air and landed gracefully on her paws. Thanks to her calculations, she landed right in front of the open alley and hurried after the toms and Frost, the Warf Cats hard on her heels.

She followed the toms by scent, since she didn't now this territory.

Sides heaving, she glanced over her shoulder and gasped as she saw that the enormous strides of the Warf Cats were making up for their lack of stamina. They were gaining.

Suddenly, she burst of an alley and the Warf Cat scent line hit her nose. She was almost there! No gang or gang member like venturing into the slums, and the Warf Cats never crossed scent lines. It was odd, but at the moment Flick didn't care.

Just as the lead tom leapt, she burst out of the territory and skidded to a halt. The Warf Cats mulled around in confusion but would not cross the scent line. Flick sneered and called, "Better luck nex' time buddies!" before following the scent of the toms and Frost.

A moment later, the orange tom stepped out from behind a dumpster. "Thanks," he mewed gruffly. "I'm Flame and this is Mangle," he motioned to the big brown tabby. Flick studied them more carefully. Flame was small, for Warf Cat standards. He stood a mouse-length shorter than his partner. His pelt, the color of fire, was scarred a bit, like Flick's. He was heavily muscled with green eyes and about twelve moons old, Flick's age.

Mangle was old enough to be Flick's father. His sandy colored pelt was decorated with dark brown tabby stripes and bore a tapestry of scars. His left ear was tattered and he was huge. There was a kindly glint in his blue eyes.

Beside her Frost murmured, "Looks like we have some partners on our paws. What do you think Flick? Can they travel with us?"

Flick studied them for a moment longer then looked them in the eyes. "I'd feel safer a' night, knowin' we 'ad two Warf Cats t' protect us. Would ye do us th' honors o' travelin' wit us?"

The toms exchanged glances, then shrugged as Flame mewed, "We've nowhere else to go. I don' see why not."

Flick nodded and took the lead, Frost behind her and Flame and Mangle after her, guarding the rear. Then she turned and set off further into the slums.

_**Please R&R. **_


	6. Captured

**Disclaimer: I own only what was not in the books**

** I would like to apologize to my readers. I understand how frusterating it is when an author never updates, but I've been BUSY. School is out on Tuesday, and I'll probably update more during the summer. **

**I would also like to thank all my reviewers: Silvy, Nova Bucker, MagiccalStarlight, Little Miss Sparrow, Sunfrost, EveningSongEnchantment, Bramblebelly, HoneyFeather, Crowfood, and Madommoiselle Giry. Thanks SO SO SO much. **

Chapter 5: Captured

"So," Cinderpelt mewed briskly, pacing the space in front of Firestar's den. "Is that all?"

The ginger tom nodded, trying to hide his amusement. Cinderpelt often treated him like an apprentice without thinking. But he needed to know what she thought these dreams might mean. The one two nights before had been the most vivid of them all.

"Well, your first dream is simple enough to see, but understanding is another issue. The images and sound are memories or thoughts of some cats or many, but definitely cats. You could understand them. Wherever this 'lightening' is coming from, it's coming from a two-leg place. It will save the forest, but only after destroying it."

"I didn't know that was possible," a voice mewed, half sarcastic, half amused. The two cats turned to look at Sandstorm, who flopped down next to Firestar. "Mind if I join you?"

He licked her ear as Cinderpelt mewed, "Not at all. Your advice would be helpful. Firestar, tell her about the dreams."

Firestar told his mate swiftly, wanting to get on with the deciphering.

Sandstorm nodded. "Cinderpelt's got all the sense out of that first dream that I could think of. What about the second one?"

"That's obvious," Cinderpelt mewed. "It means the lightening has started its journey to us, or is getting closer."

"It's the third dream that puzzles me," Firestar admitted.

"All you have to do is use your head," Sandstorm mewed, and Cinderpelt, purring, added, "In that case, we'll never make sense of it."

Sandstorm snorted and Cinderpelt grinned. Firestar couldn't help it. He laughed. It was times like these that he was reminded of Cinderpelt's old mentor, Yellowfang, or his best friend Graystripe, who had been taken by two-legs.

More seriously, Cinderpelt went on, "Well, let's start at the beginning. The ghosts. Could that be the wailing of the first dream? The reason the lightining is leaving?"

Sandstorm nodded. "It's a thought. It may also be memories. Or unknown warrior ancestors," she glanced at Firestar and added, "We know that those are possible, now." Firestar nodded, remembering, before Sandstorm went on, "As for the hawk, at first it is hard to tell whether it is a good thing or a bad thing. If it was good, the squirrel, crow, and lightening would be bad. If it was bad, the squirrel, crow, and lightening would be good. Probably the brambles too, perhaps the pool. What else would they be?"

Cinderpelt nodded her agreement and Firestar added, "It's the hawk that worries me. The frost, the blue eyes; it all points to one cat. Hawkfrost. He's going to bring destruction to the forest and it seems as if Tigerstar, somehow, is at the center of it. As if Hawkfrost is taking over for his father. We have to watch for the storm, because it bears the lightening that is, supposedly, going to save us."

"The warning at the end points to Hawkfrost as well," Cinderpelt mewed. "Its speaks of Tigerstar's kin. Perhaps--?" She glanced at Firestar.

Firestar nodded grimly. "Fetch Brambleclaw. We need to talk."

* * *

Flick glanced around the abandoned Thunderpath, eyes glittering in the moonlight. It had been two days since they had set out into the slums and they had met no cat, though they had seen them lurking in the shadows. None of them, Flick guessed, wanted to mess with the two hulking Warf Cats and a scarred, young fighter.

"We shoul' fin' a place t' rest," Mangle murmured beside her. "Frost's dead on 'er paws and even Flame's lookin' a bit weary. E's no' used to travelin' so far."

Flick nodded. She felt bad for forgetting that not all cats were used to constant traveling. Once she got going, she could keep it up all night. "Any ideas?" she growled back.

Mangle nodded and flicked his tail at two long-abandoned trash cans. "I've checked 'em. No cats usin' 'em, or 'as used 'em in a while. They'll keep the wind off." Flick nodded. "Stay 'ere. I'll go an' get the o'ers and follow our scents back. It'll be good practice fer Frost." Mangle purred and went to wait in the mouth of one of the cans. Flick trotted into the shadows.

The slums were a creepy place. Even two-legs avoided them, the ones from the upper city anyway. There were hundreds of two-legs living here, though those that weren't homeless could barely pass or make ends meet. The cats were no better, wandering around and fighting over the smallest bit of rotten two-leg rubbish. There were no Gangs, only groups of two or three. It was a fight enough to survive in the upper city, but getting by in the slums was near impossible, making Flick wonder at the amazing number of cats living there.

She found Frost and Flame (a/n- I seem to like the 'F's don't I?) trudging along an alley just two down from the street she and Mangle had been on. "C'mon slow pokes," she hissed, "Jus' a little bit further and ye can rest fer the night."

Frost nodded and it was only now that Flick noticed how bad she looked. When she had first found the white she-cat, her fur had been spotless and shiny, neatly groomed and without tangles. She had been plump and well fed, her blue eyes clear. Now, though, her fur was matted and dull, hanging in clumps. There were patches where it was torn off completely, caught on one thing or another. Her eyes were as dull and lifeless as one of the squirrels Flick often found on the road, smushed. Her ribs were visible and her skin sagged. She strode dejectedly, barely able to lift her paws. She looked as if she had given up completely on anything she had ever believed in.

With a pang of worry, Flick began to wonder if Frost really had what it took to survive on the street.

* * *

"Mangle," Flick whispered. The tom lifted his head, blinking sleepily. Behind him, the forms of Flame and Frost lay curled in the warm blanket of dreams. "Ye should be asleep lass," the big tom murmured even as he hauled himself to his paws. "What can I do fer ye?"

Flick sighed. "I'm worried 'bout Frost. She looks so… bad. I don' know if'n she'll make it out of the slums. I don' know wha' t' do," she admitted at last.

Mangle glanced at the sleeping form of the she-cat, then turned his gaze to the sky. "She needs rest. An' a real meal. Bu' we can' stop in the slums. There's no' enough food or clean water an' we'd be jumped as soon as any cat saw we was somewhat weak. If'n she can make it outa the city, we can rest fer a couple days there. Fer as long as she likes."

"Ye help, too, Flick," a third voice added. Flick jumped, but Mangle didn't tear his gaze away from the stars as he purred, "'ello Flame."

Flame came to sit beside them. "She always 'as a bit more energy in 'er when ye're teachin' er. Like she wants t' make ye proud, prove she got what it takes. She looks up t' ye fer all ye'll on'y a bit older n' er."

Flick blinked at the tom, completely dumbfounded for one of the few times in her life.

"There ain't nothin' special 'bout me," she mewed. Flame just shook his head, a look of amused disbelief on his broad face, and went back to bed. Mangle suddenly yanked his gaze from the stars. "I got it," he mewed.

Flick stared at him. "What've ye got," she mewed slowly. He grinned at her. "I got an idea that'll git us outa this city fast, and give Frost some time t' rest! We'll take a boat! The two-legs won't mind 'tall. They like cats that'll keep away the rats. I've been on a couple o' trips in m'day. They leave ye alone t' yer business. Its fast and Frost'll be able to rest and eat!"

Flick immediately snorted contempt. She would _never_ get that close to two-legs, whether they left her alone or not. "Tha's a crazy idea," she snapped. "Two-legs is unpredictable and we coul' just as easily end up dead than we could alive."

Mangle studied her for a moment, then shrugged and turned away, but not before Flick saw a flash of…something in his eyes. "What?" she asked sharply. He glanced at her as he curled up again. "I jus' thought ye was made of sterner stuff is all." He sighed. "Ah well. Frost's tough. She'll hang in there." He closed his eyes and slept again. After a moment, Flick followed.

"Fine," she told him in the morning.

Mangle glanced at her. "Hmm?"

"We'll take th' boat. But if'n any of us is caught, I'll shred ye."

Mangle grinned. "I knew ye'd come t' yer senses. It's only across town. Why don' ye tell th' others while I go huntin'?" Before she could reply, he slipped into the alley. Flick sighed and turned back to the box where Flame was sitting, watching her. Frost was still asleep, and Flick decided to leaver her that way.

"Don' mind Mangle," Flame growled. "He jus' likes to bein' listened to. Slim n'er listened t' reason an' Mangle likes seein' things done right fer a change."

Flick shrugged, a bit awkward as she realized that this handsome young tom was about her age.

"I don't mind," she grunted. "Its nice t' 'ave decisions made fer me for a change, 'stead o' the o'er way 'round." She felt his eyes burning into her and busily began to wash, ears flicking uncomfortably, and was shocked when she felt his tongue rasp over ear, helpfully getting rid of a large smudge of dirt. She glanced up into Flame's eyes and thought, _If twas any o'er cat but 'im or Frost, I'd 'ave their pelts fer my nest. But this…this is kinda nice._

_

* * *

_

"Flick, ye want t' scout ahead?" Mangle growled, surprising the she-cat from her conversation with Flame and Frost. They'd been traveling for the good part of a day, but now that they were getting closer to the Warf Cat border, Flick could see the reasoning.

She nodded to her friends and hurried into the alley ahead of them. It was dark but her well trained eyes soon adjusted and her brisk trot slowed to a leisurely stroll. As she moved past dumpsters and the noise of the twoleg streets drifted to her on the wind, along with the smell of car fuel and the cries of twolegs, she realized how much she would miss this place. Disgusting and harsh as it was, despite the day-to-day struggle to survive and the endless fighting, this was her home. She knew these streets like the back of her paw. Here, she was confident about what she had to do and how she had to do it.

For a moment, she felt a twinge of uncertainty. What if she stayed? What if she tried to survive the plague? But then, the memory of Twist leaping out of the shadows, sacrificing himself for her escape. That decided her.

At that moment a yowl split the air and Flick's hackles rose as she recognized Frost's voice. She whipped around and sprinted for the alley mouth, following her own scent trail. She burst into clear light and gasped, skidding to a halt.

Before her, she saw Mangle, Flame, and Frost being stuffed into metal mesh cages she'd seen Pet-kitties travel in. They were thrown unceremoniously into the back of a waiting twoleg car and she watched in horror as the door began to swing shut. That last thing she saw of them was Flame's eyes as they met hers, pleading and helpful. Then the door slammed shut and within moments the car was gone, leaving only dust and a young she-cat who was beginning to realize how completely alone and lost she really was in this maze of a city.

**I know -flinches- the chappie is SHORT, but at least its something. I wanted to get SOMETHING up, so here it is. My next chappie will probably be sooner. I should be, anyway. PLEASE REVIEW!  
**


	7. Plans

MagicalStarlight: thanks! I always update as soon as I can

Comfreyflower: Thanks too! Schools out now, so I SHOULD be updating more, but now I'm busy with friends and parties, but it'll all start cooling down now that schools been out for a week. Only one more party that I know of, and and a few days away, and my traveling is DONE!

Silvyoh: Lol! I like Flame too! Who knows, he may be back. Or will it be to late to save him? Mwa ha ha...

BB: Thanks! Hee hee, this is the closest I've ever come to writing romance. I'll probably leave the big things (I love you's and all that) to the readers imaginations, but you never know...

Little Miss Sparrow: Yea, I like the accents too! A bit hard to type, but fun. Glad you like it!

Aurorastar: Hopefully it'll get better!

EveningSongEnchantment: No, sorry, you didn't beta this one. I wanted to get it up fast and wasn't sure if you were still beta-ing. ARE you still beta-ing? W/e. Enjoy the chappie!

**Disclaimer: I own only what was not in the books**

** ATTENTION: PLEASE! **PLEASE go to my profile and check out this Warriors RPG I made. Technically its my cousins (I just designed the site) but she hasn't been on in FOREVER so its all pretty much me. The link is there, its something like skhawk4 DOT proboards DOT com. PLEASE we need more ACTIVE members! And it WILL get better, but, again, we need ACTIVE members. The layout will also get better.

Chapter 6: Plans

"How should _I_ know what Hawkfrost is up to? We're from different Clans!" Brambleclaw exclaimed.

Firestar raised his eyebrows (a/n- I _know_ cats don't have eyebrows, but you catch my drift…) "Does that mean you've _never _had _any_ inclination to speak with him, or get to know him? He's your kin."

Firestar saw doubt flicker for half a second behind his warriors amber eyes, so much like his father's. But then it was gone and Brambleclaw met his gaze. "Of course I have. But if he was doing anything, _anything_, to harm the clans, I would tell you. My first loyalty is to ThunderClan. I thought I'd proved that. After all, my sister's in ShadowClan. I'm used to things like this."

Firestar studied him. Any other time, under any other circumstances, Brambleclaw would have been in trouble for speaking to his leader like that, but for the moment Firestar let it slide and mewed quietly, "Does that mean you'd fight your sister if need be? Or Hawkfrost?"

Again; that flash of doubt, like a mouse in the leaves, then, "I'd do anything to protect my Clan. If it meant fighting my brother or sister I would. I wouldn't like hurting them, but I'd fight them if it came to it."

Firestar studied his former apprentice thoughtfully. He remembered how close he and Tawnypelt had been as kits and apprentices. Even now, he realized, their half-clan heritage kept them closer than cats from different clans usually were. But that didn't mean he wasn't loyal. He had traveled all the way to sun-drown-place and back to save ThunderClan and Firestar had seen him in battle. He hadn't even hesitated to fight Hawkfrost.

Firestar sighed. "I'm sorry Brambleclaw. I don't doubt your loyalty. Its, well, things have been going on lately and I need to know. Will you keep your ears and eyes open though?"

Brambleclaw relaxed. "Of course, Firestar. I'll report anything strange straight to you."

Firestar nodded, content. Then he saw it again. That flicker of doubt. But it was gone even more quickly than the others and Firestar began to wonder if he had imagined it.

"Good," he mewed, regaining his composure. "Now, I need a patrol along the WindClan border. Pick two more warriors and…Whitepaw. She needs the exercise now that Brackenfur is spending so much time in the nursery, waiting for Sorreltail to kit."

Brambleclaw nodded and rose, starting to pad out from his leaders den. At the last second he stopped and turned, looking Firestar straight in the eye. "I _would_ do anything to protect ThunderClan. I might not like it, but I'd do it." With that, he left.

Firestar gazed after him. There had been no flicker of doubt in his eyes as he spoke his parting words.

* * *

Frost's eyes flickered slowly open. How long had she been asleep? Why hadn't one of the others woken her up? She gasped, memories coming back to her in a rush. The twoleg, a net, a hard metal cage….an unnatural feeling, dreamless, sleep…

She scrambled to her paws, looking around, head whipping from one side to another. Where were Mangle and Flame? And Frost?

She could see nothing but a hard, white, twoleg wall on one side and rows upon rows of cages like hers on the other.

She threw back her head a yowled.

"Calm down youngster, or the twolegs will be back."

She closed her mouth immediately and whipped around to see who the low, calming, voice had belonged to. In the cage next to hers sat a big, broad-shouldered gray tom. His thick fur was well kept and stretched tight over his muscles. His wide face was home to two, bright, yellow eyes.

"Good," he went on. "Now, I know its gross, but eat some food. It's all we've got. Then give yourself a good wash."

Shivering, Frost obeyed, glad to have orders to follow. She munched up the dry, disgusting food, knowing he was right. There was no point in not eating the food, since it would keep them alive, but it was a far cry from the delicious prey that Frost had come to love.

After eating, she began to wash her fur, sitting close to the tom's side of the cage. "What," she asked between licks, "is your name? I'm Frost."

The tom studied her then, unexpectedly, licked his paw and stuck it through the wire mesh, swiping it over her ear in a fatherly, comforting, gesture. "I'm Graystripe, deputy of ThunderClan."

Frost stopped her licking. "ThunderClan? What's ThunderClan? Is it a gang name?"

Graystripe shook his head, looking mildly surprised she didn't know. "It's one of the four forest clans. There's ShadowClan, WindClan, RiverClan, and ThunderClan."

Frost's paw dropped from her ear. "You mean they exist! The forest cats are real?"

Graystripe nodded. "I was deputy, second in command," he added, seeing her confused look, "of ThunderClan. The twolegs were destroying our forest and prey was scarce. The Clans were starving." His yellow eyes clouded with grief as he spoke. "Cats were going missing."

Frost's curiosity was sparked, though she barely understood what he was saying. "Who?" she asked.

Graystripe looked at her for a moment, as if wondering if he should tell her. At last he seemed to decide it could do no harm and mewed, "Brambleclaw, a warrior of my Clan, Squirrelpaw, the ThunderClan leader's daughter, a cat from WindClan, Brambleclaw's sister Tawnypelt of ShadowClan, and my own children, Feathertail and Stormfur."

Frost blinked. "Why are your children in a different clan? If clan's are anything like gangs, then that is pretty rare. And why is Brambleclaw's sister in…erm…ShadeClan?"

Graystripe let out a purr of amusement. "ShadowClan," he corrected gently, then added, "Brambleclaw and Tawnypelt's father was deputy of ThunderClan. He was...twisted. He wanted to take over the whole forest. He tried to kill his leader so he could take her place, but he was found out and banished. He became leader of ShadowClan instead. Many cats blamed his children for what he did, and, though Brambleclaw chose to stick it out, a fact I'm grateful for, Tawnypelt chose to join her father in ShadowClan. Even after he was killed, she stayed there. As for my kits," his eyes softened as he spoke of them, "I simply fell in love with a RiverClan she-cat, but she died giving birth to them."

If Graystripe had been hesitant about telling her of the clans before, he didn't seem to have a problem with it now. He sounded eager, as if talking of home somehow released him from his iron prison.

Frost stared at him, wide eyed. If a clan was anything like a gang, and they sounded similar, then this cat must have been _insane_. "He wanted to take over the _whole _city—I mean, forest?" she gasped.

Graystripe nodded grimly. "Yes. But his son and daughter more than outshone his shadow when they saved the clans by traveling to sun-drown place to receive a message from StarClan, our warrior ancestors who live in the sky. The message helped them save the forest." His eyes clouded with grief as he added, "My daughter never returned."

Frost felt a stab of pity for this cat who obviously loved the home that the twolegs had taken from him. She pressed up against the metal siding of the cage, purring reassuringly. "She's in…," she searched her memory, trying to remember what he'd called it. "StarClan," she mewed triumphantly. "Mother always said the ones we love never truly leave us."

Graystripe sighed, then lifted his head and went on, "The cats came back and delivered the message. We were in the process of convincing RiverClan to leave the forest when a few cats went missing again. Not the same ones though. When two of our cats went to investigate, they found where the missing cats were. I led a patrol and we freed them all, even the rogues, but I got caught. I've been traveling around from one twoleg place to another ever since."

Frost knew she could never imagine the pain this cat must be going through. His mate and daughter were dead and he wasn't even home with the Clan here cared so passionately about to look after his son. _For all he knows, Stormfur could be dead_, she realized. She pressed up against him again.

After a moment, he mewed, "What about you? What are you doing here? You don't look like a kittypet."

Frost shrugged. "I was a pet-kitty actually, until a few days ago. I wandered out of my home and Flick saved me."

Graystripe cocked his head to one side. "Who's Flick?"

"Flick's my guide," Frost mewed excitedly, suddenly eager to tell him all about her adventures, "she's the best fighter I've ever seen."

The big gray warrior listened intently as her story unfolded, interrupting only once or twice to clarify something. At last, when she'd finished, he sat back thoughtfully. "Do you think this Flick will try a rescue?" he asked.

Frost nodded, not doubting it for a moment. "Of course."

* * *

Flick curled up in the small box, mind whirling with ideas. She had known it was useless to run after the car that had carried away her friends just an hour before, so she had hunted and found shelter; she had to think.

After a stressful hour of hard, stressful plotting, she came to two simple conclusions. She could go after her friends, or she could continue on alone toward the forest. A few days ago, she would have left for the forest immediately, without guilt. But a few days ago, Frost had been an annoyance and it wasn't until now that Flick became aware of the fondness she had for the young cat. And she couldn't leave Flame and Mangle to die.

At last she decided. She would go after her friends.

She rested her head on her paws and closed her eyes. She would need her sleep. But thoughts continued to whirl in her mind, never ceasing. She'd drift away only to be jerked awake by the fact that she had no idea which shelter Frost, Flame, and Mangle had been taken to, or that she was sleeping uncomfortably close to Warf cat territory. At last, she fell into an uneasy sleep, filled with dreams of many, lean, battle scarred cats and stars that called her name.

* * *

Flick awoke in the middle of the night to claws at her neck and a voice hissing into her ear. "Yer on Ace's territory lass. 'Less ye've a good excuse, I'd say yer prayers now," the scrawny tortoiseshell she-cat cackled as Flick groaned. She must be on a territory belonging to one of the small, unimportant gangs of the city. Then the name Ace rang a bell and she groaned again. Ace was the leader of the Sewermice gang. Sewermice owned only a small patch of above ground land, but their territory was one of the largest since it stretched through much of the cities sewers and underground tunnels.

Flick was hauled roughly to her paws and shoved forward to face a towering black and white tom. Four other equally scrawny cats crouched beside him, eyes burning for a fight.

"We'll take 'er back t' th' Chief," Black-and-white mewed at last. "But she can't see the entrance," he added meaningfully, and rose to his paws, turning around. Flick's heart drummed in her chest. What were they going to do to her if she wasn't allowed to see the entrance? Blind her?

Black-and-white flicked his tail to the others and, with hisses of delight, they leapt at her, knocking her to the ground. She realized what the plan was even as the first cat slammed into her. Flick didn't even fight as she was slowly pounded into unconsciousness.

* * *

Flick awoke for the second time in a few hours, though this time water was being splashed over her. "Wake up," the tortoiseshell mewed gruffly. "We're in th' tunnel now. Ye'll have to walk."

Frost groaned at this, but heaved herself to her paws. Her entire body ached and throbbed with pain and she felt a half-closed cut reopen and blood run in a warm trickle down her leg.

A tabby glanced at the red stain it made and whined nervously, "That'll attract th' rats, tha' will."

"Shu' up Foul," Black-and-white snarled, clouting him over the head. "We'll b' back at th' Lair in a momen'. S'not tha' far."

'Not that far' was far enough for Flick. The party of cats wound their way through a seemingly unending maze of pitch black tunnels, lit only by the occasional twoleg sewer lid. Each pawstep was agony to her sore muscles and bruised, bleeding body. By the time she saw light ahead and heard the murmur of many voices, she was half collapsing with each step.

The wide tunnel was still underground, though it had long ago been abandoned by twolegs. A smaller tunnel, big enough for one cat to get through at a time, led up into the outside world. It was a strategically amazing thing, Flick noticed vaguely through her pain. Invading cats would not be able to get through the tunnel fast enough for a whole force to get in, so the only way was through that impossibly long, winding, maze of sewers that Flick had taken, and that had only been part of it.

She was escorted through a throng of cats to a pile of rubble that had fallen away from the wall for one reason or another. The result was not only naturally made stairs, but a tunnel in the wall deep enough for three or four cats to fit in.

The party stopped at the base of the pile, except for Black-and-white, who climbed to the top and disappeared into the crack. Flick collapsed in exhaustion, groaning. Her entire body was on fire. She wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. Her eyes began to flicker shut when suddenly words echoed in her ears. Twist's words. _"Bu' mos' of all, ye 'ave the will. The will t' survive."_ With the iron resolve and stubbornness born from life on the streets, she forced her eyes open. She would _not_ die. She would find a way out of here and rescue her friends and they'd make their way to the forest.

She glared at Black-and-white as he hurried back down the rubble. He avoided her gaze and mewed, "Ace'll see ye in 'is den now." With that, he strode away.

The one named Foul and the tortoiseshell made to shove her to her paws, but she shouldered them aside and heaved herself up. As she made her way up the pile alone, she only wished she had time to groom her ruffled and torn fur.

Pushing her way into the den she saw the little tunnel widened into a good sized cavern. Two cats crouched in the corner, talking quietly over some prey. Neither of them looked up as she entered. She limped over to the corner and sat down to wait.

At last the tabby growled, "Leave us," to his companion and flicked his tail in dismissal. As the other cat left, the other, who had to be Ace, turned his gaze to Flick.

"Tell me, what is a Streetrat cat doing on Sewermice territory? Not spying I hope." Flick noticed that his speech was as educated as Sally Bones' had been.

Flick shook her head and mewed evenly, "I di'n mean t' trespass, I swear. Me an' some friends was passin' by near yer border when they was taken by twolegs. I found a box t' sleep in an' yer patrol found me there."

Ace studied her for a moment, and then mewed sarcastically, "And you just happen to not notice the scent line?"

Flick winced inwardly as she replied, "Yes. But I was'n gonna stay long. I was gonna go after em. My frien's I mean."

Ace raised an eyebrow. "You were going to follow a truck through the city to one of the hundreds of pounds, shelters, and kennels, fight through twoleg security and back without getting caught?"

Flick glared at him, hiding her embarrassment. She knew her plan had been foolish, but it sounded even stupider when he said it like that. "It it meant gettin' m' friends back, then yea."

Ace looked thoughtfully at her and mewed, "I just so happen to know where your friends are. Or probably are." Flick gasped and Ace went on, "We've had cats go missing in the past few weeks. We've tracked them to a pound just north of here."

Flick leapt to her paws, ready to tear away despite her aching limbs, but Ace mewed smoothly, "Make a move for the exit and your scrap meat. I've two healthy guards out there and your in no condition to fight."

Flick snarled at him, but sat down again. Ace nodded. "That's better. Now, your Flick aren't you? Thought so. You know, my sister often told me of your feats when she visited. Quite impressive."

Flick leapt to her paws. "You've a spy in m' Gang? Tell me who 'tis and U'll rip 'er fur off!" she snarled, instinctively jumping to the defense of her Gang.

Ace rolled his eyes. "Sit down. My sister is no spy. She's Sally Bones. Yes, your leader. Our father was a Sewermice cat and our mother a Streetrat. Mother took one kit, father another and here we all are," he mewed dismissively. "Anyway, the point I was trying to get to was that I have a proposal for you. With a patrol of my cats, you will go to this shelter. You will help free my gang and my gang will help free yours cats. Then you'll be free to go. It'll be easier for all of us." He looked her up and down, then added, "You'll get a few nights rest first, though."

Flick opened her mouth to protest, then realized he was right. She could refuse and could be killed while her friends were held prisoner until they were put to sleep, or she could fight to save them, which had been her plan in the first place. She nodded, swallowing her pride, and mewed, "I'm in."

**I UPDATED! Whoot! Anywho, please review! I appreciate all who are sticking with this!**


	8. Escape

**ZOMG! Tis meh, shnitz, back from the dead! -le gasp- For those of you who don't know meh, I don't blame you. To fill you in, possibly bore you to tears, and stall this pathetic excuse for a chappie, I will tell you. I was one of the first people to post in the Warriors fic section (my fic After the Storm) and did a few other stories. I just haven't been on in AGES. Anyway, heres a chapter. It sucks, but I'm still getting back into the groove of writing xD**

**As for my reviewers of old, please do not come after me armed with pitchforks, flip flops, and other painful things, like good old Gov. Arnold S trying to act. It would make it pretty hard to type...**

Chapter 8: Escape

The tall buildings of the city rose up against the soft dusk light, casting long shadows onto the cold cement city below. The air was cold and the snow that piled on the side of the streets and alleys was stained brown by the spray of slush from passing cars. Flick wove her way through the mess, splattering her gray pelt with muck. The sun slid across her blue eyes as she scanned the street. Behind her crept a group of cats, all of them blinking cautiously and some a bit nervously, uncomfortable with being above the ground.

"This way," a heavy tom rumbled, padding up to stand at her left before veering into a dark alley. She tore her gaze from the skyline and followed him, the others lurching after her. They'd been out for over and hour and according to her guides calculations, they'd get to the nest where her friends were captive just a bit before the twolegs closed the place. Flick was bubbling with adrenaline just waiting to burst up. She forced it back, her heart thumping nervously against her ribs. She paid little attention as she slid through the alley's, knowing but not caring for once that she was breaking a very important rule of survival. Her mind wandered as her paws followed automatically in the pawsteps of her guide and it was a jolt when she slammed right into him. He didn't waver on his steady paws, but in her distraction she stumbled into mush. As the cold liquid seeped into her pelt, she rose, disgusted, and glared around, daring anyone to laugh. She was _not _in the mood. If anyone found it amusing, they kept their snickers to themselves and, with a final glare, she wiped her fur off quickly and stepped foward to stand next to their guide.

"I take it we're 'ere," she growled. He merely grunted and jerked his head to the small brick building across the street from them. It was not tall, only about two stories, and a bit long. Flick recognized it now, as she'd been here twice, studying the building and the twolegs. She'd taken an underground route here both times, but they'd come over land so they wouldn't come out in the middle of the street during the busiest time of a twoleg day. She flicked her tail to the assembled cats and settled down to wait, eyes fixed on the nest. She crouched until her muscles grew stiff and the sun disappeared over the horizon. Scowling, the twolegs were taking exceptionally long, she felt her limbs growing stiff.

Finally, when they'd been there for so long that the sun was completely gone and the moon was in full shine among the smog-dimmed stars, she uttered the first thing she had since arrival. "Thorn," she growled, her voice sticking in her dry throat. Swallowing to clear it up, she went on, "go check this out. Something is up." The tiny, kit sized brown tom slunk forward, hurried across the street, and disappeared. They waited again, their breath billowing in soft clouds in the cool night air and just when Flick thought that perhaps the small tom had been captured, Thorn came scurrying back across the street. Flick rose to meet him.

Unused to such strenuous work, the little cat, usually an assassin, huffed, "Closed up early Flick. Fergots tha' they do tha' sometimes. Dunno why...'appens bout once a week." Flick swore. Her entire plan had revolved around the twolegs opening the door to the building on their way out. "There was nothin'? No open windows or doors or cracks?" Thorn looked uncomfortable under her sharp gaze.

"Well," he mewed slowly "there was this open window but twas way up. Ye'd 'ave ta be a bird ter get up there."

Hope flickered in Flick's chest and she growled steely voiced, "I ain't no bird but I'll do m' best." The gray she-cat twitched her tail to the cats behind her, all of whom were stretching tired, stiff limbs, and padded off across the street. Stepping up onto the sidewalk on the other side, Flick followed Thorn into the shadows of the alley. Twisting to avoid a pile of trash, she almost ran into the small tom, who was standing and staring straight up. Following his gaze, Flick's jaw dropped. Thorn hadn't been lying or exaggerating. The small rectangle of glass truly was high up, near the top of the building.

Instinctively, her eyes scanned the rest of the alley for something high enough to use. Dumpsters, trash cans...there was nothing. Then her eyes caught sight of the rusty, peeling fire-escape on the opposite building. Her gaze lit and she quickly studied the distance between the buildings. It would be a long shot, but she'd try. If she failed, she'd fall to her death, and Frost, Mangle, and Flame wouldn't stand a chance.

Swearing broke through her thoughts and she turned to see the Sewer Mice cats glaring around and snarling in anger as they realized their predicament. Perhaps they could come back tomorrow...

About to give this one up, she heard a tom growl to his fellow, "...'ll be that Mangle's last night. Judgin' by 'er words, 'e weren't a 'andsome cat. E'll be put down, like they do wit' all cats what 'ave been there more'n a week and dun look like they'll get a 'ome." Flick's eyes widened and she drowned out the rest of his words. Put down? Her gaze hardened and so did her heart. Calling up the adrenaline that had been bubbling beneath the surface for so long, she shouldered past the crowd of cats and made her way to the fire escape.

Gathering up her muscles, she lunged and her front paws caught on the first rung of the ladder. For a precarious moment she hung, back legs dangling. Gritting her teeth she heaved with all her might and pulled her body up. After that, leaping lightly from rung to rung was easy enough. She reached the first level of the fire escape, then the second, then the third. This one was level with the window, but she didn't want level. She climbed to the fourth, planning to use her momentum to carry her forward only, and let gravity aim her downwards.

With the blood rushing in her ears and her heart beating in her throat, she forced herself not to look down. The distance to the window, already long, looked suddenly farther and for a moment her paws stopped. What was she doing? This was insane! She couldn't jump that far! She'd just come back tomorrow and pray that Mangle didn't get killed. She backed up a few paces, paws quivering slightly with adrenaline, when suddenly her body quaked first forward then back as a screeching crack shattered the still night air. She yowled as she realized the ancient metal had given way beneath her back paws.

Pain lanced up her leg as rusted metal sliced into her skin. With an angry, pained screech, she hauled herself forward until she rested on sturdy metal once more and gazed at the deep gash in her leg. Poking it gently with her nose, she winced as it stung. Watching the blood well to the surface, roll gently down through her fur, and then plop onto the metal, she realized she couldn't turn back. Her friends needed her and she'd do what she could to help them.

Padding forward, she didn't give herself time to hesitate. She merely yowled, "Meet me at th' front entrance," then gathered her throbbing back leg beneath her and leapt.Her body soared through the air, wind streaming through her fur and burning her eyes. All time seemed to stop and Flick felt as if she was flying, paws outstretched before her. The moment was ruined, though, as she slammed into the wall of the other building, front paws catching on the ledge of the open window. Back paws scrabbling at the smooth brick, she dangled in the air tail lengths above the alley floor. For half a moment, she felt herself slipping and panic raced through her, followed quickly by adrenaline. With a last heave she managed to pull herself up onto the ledge, where she sat, sides heaving.

She glanced down into the alley and shuddered at the height, but was pleased to see the Sewer Mice cats filing out of the alley and toward the entrance of the building. As her breath returned and her heart pattered back to normal, she turned her gaze to the room on the other side of the window. It was long and white, silver cages stacked one atop the other on either of the walls. A single clear door adorned the opposite wall, and Flick could see a white tiled hallway on the other side. She frowned. How was she going to open the door? It looked heavy, and the handle was high up and very menacing looking.

Shifting her gaze from the door for now, her gaze scanned the room for her friends. Seeing no familiar faces, and ignoring the yowling, mewling, and odd stares, she leapt lightly down, back leg twinging painfully, and padded toward the door. Taking a seat at its base, she stared up at it with unblinking blue eyes. Ideas mulled through her mind, each stupider than the last.

"The button," a voice spoke loudly. She turned. A large gray tabby was gazing steadily at her with wise eyes. "Press the button. The door is automatic and will slide open on its own. Usually you don't have to, but when the twolegs leave it stops opening when it sees you."

She blinked at him, then nodded. "Thanks," she mewed making a mental note to come back to this cat if she could. She knew she couldn't take everyone, but this tom was scarred and tough looking, not a family pet. She wondered how long he'd survive. Her gaze rested on the large button at two-leg hand height and she reared back, favoring her injured leg, and reached up, padding the thing softly. With a metallic hiss the door slid open and Flick hurried through, praying it wouldn't snap shut on her tail.

On the other side of the door she glanced around. The hallway led up and down a ways, one side disappearing into darkness and the taking a sharp right along a windowed passage way. Figuring that this was the side that faced the street, she turned left and padded forward. The tile felt smooth and unnatural beneath her paws, cold and sterile. She shuddered thinking of a cats last moments being in this cold metal dungeon, before turning the corner.

Before her lay a different place. Rather than numerous doors, the slightly wider hallway was lined with chairs and rugs and a large desk. Windows lined the left wall, showing off the street, and huge double glass doors, like the one she'd just passed through but larger, led outside. She could see the Sewer Mice cats milling around, obviously wondering what had become of her. Grinning cheekily, she padded up to the window and eyed them all carefully. At the sight of her a cheer of yowls went up, muffled to her by the thick glass. Laughing, she reached up confidently and padded the button. The door slid to the side and the cats began to file in...right as a screeching alarm shot off.

Yowling, cats leapt into the air, fluffing up and hissing, to land stiff legged on the smooth floor. "Quiet!" Flick yowled, her own heart beating a million miles a minute. "That alarm'll bring them twolegs in blue with th' loud, flashin' cars. We need t' get th' job done, an' fast. Foller my scent to the room I came in by an' press th' big red bu'on. Most scary cats're in there. Th' rest of ye, foller me and yowl yer 'eads off."

She caught the cat leading the other patrol and growled, "Theres a gray in there, a big un. 'E's a tabby, right near th' entrance. Get 'im outta there too." The cat grunted and loped off. Her heart thumping in time with the screaming alarm, Flick shot off down the hall, yowling. She listened for three voices in particular, not really caring about the Sewer Mice cats she was supposed to be helping. Voice upon voice screamed back to her and she was caught up in a chorus of yowling, mewling, and yelling. She realized how stupid her idea had been, even if it had been necessary. How was she supposed to hear her friends through this racket?

Suddenly, a booming voice roared, "Flick!" _Mangle!_, she thought happily, skidding to a halt. Peering through a glass door, she saw him and Flame straining against side-by-side cages. Frost pressed her face anxiously against the bars beneath them. Rearing back, she slammed her paw onto the button and the door slid open, suddenly seeming to move unbelievably slow. Rushing into the room, she hurried to the cages that held her friends.

Frost mewed immediately, "We have to save Graystripe! He is in a different room than this! I was with him for a while, before they moved me!"

Gathering the latch in her jaws, Flick wiggled it around. Around the metal she mumbled, "We got no time kid. The twoleg patrols're on their way. We gotta split."

"Please," Frost pleaded as, with a satisfied grunt from Flick, her lock clicked and her door swung open. "He's a big gray tabby with scars and yellow eyes and-"

Flick paused in her wiggling of Flame's lock and glanced at her. "I got 'im," she growled, then went back to fiddling with Flame's lock. The infernal thing was stuck! "'elp me wit these!," she growled, and Frost hurried forward and began wiggling Mangle's lock with her teeth.

" In the distance, the wail of a siren could be heard and Flick's heart doubled in speed. "'Urry," she growled urgently around her lock. Suddenly, with a quick wiggle, the lock slid free and she stumbled back as the grated gate swung open. A moment later, a metallic click told her that Frost had freed Mangle. "Ye all okay?" Flick panted. They nodded in unison, knowing there'd be reunions later, then turned as one and fled out the door.

Flick led the way, Mangle on her right, Flame her left, and Frost bringing up the rear. Their paws slid on the smooth floor as they skidded around the corner. The door was in sight! Flick poured on the speed and felt her friends do the same. The Sewer Mice cats were already shooting out the door, old friends at their heels. They were almost there! Flick could feel the cold winter air blowing into the building, calling her on.

Suddenly, a huge twoleg boot stepped into the door and Flick skidded to a halt. A leg followed the foot, adorned in blue, then a body and a hand and a head. Flick's heart froze. It was an officer.

"Keep going," she howled, picking up her pace again. Flying straight at the two-leg, she watched her friends shoot past the confused twoleg Her own injury twinged, but the pain only angered her more. She clawed her way up the man's leg and he howled with pain, swatting at her with a big hand. She dodged out of the way and felt the hand slap onto his leg a hairsbreadth away. Sheathing her claws, she dropped to the floor and prepared to bolt when strong hands closed around her belly. That darn twoleg was faster than he looked!

There was a sudden flash of orange fur and glittering eyes and Flame rushed back through the door. He sliced the man's hand open, then shot between his legs. With a howl, the twoleg dropped Flick and dove for Flame, but tripped himself in doing so. He fell to the ground with a thump and Flame and Flick hurried past him. Side by side, legs moving in unison, the pounded over the hard ground, spraying slush. Mangle and Frost were waiting for them at an alley mouth with the cat Graystripe, and fell in beside the two sprinting cats as the passed. Side by side, under a shining moon, the friends rushed across the last expanse of the city, veering toward the harbor and their only way to freedom.

**It sucks, I know. I'm still getting into the flow of things so cut me some slack xD. Please review...it will make me happy! And happy Shnitz makes for happy reviewers ...with cookies! **


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